Memoirs of a Protestants Son
by LupsandTnks
Summary: What was his childhood like; how does he remember his immediate afterlife. What made Carlisle who he is today? Enemies, friends, and the love of his life create a compelling story.
1. Chapter 1

I know I haven't been very reliable in the past few months. I have probably lost a few of my once devoted readers. So, I've decided to start again. Here is a new story. I promise you now that it is going to be a bit confusing. god, I must've sat in my bedroom with my little lamp in my lap writing the outline for hours. I'm hoping that I wont fail to grab the attention of my avid readers and new ones. As you can see I am only in the process of writing 3 other Stephenie Meyer based stories, one of which has virtually no readers (even though I like it a lot). My one story, _Edward and Isabella_, became quite popular, but I'm having a writers block for that story. Hopefully the feeling will pass soon. In the meantime I am going to start this one and see how it turns out.

CHAPTER ONE

**_London, somewhere in the 1640s_**

_I am going to tell you a story. A story that starts with a young child. It may not be an interesting story, for this boy did not have an interesting life. But, I can promise that it is a true and accountable story. This boy was born in the time period mentioned, but I am writing it much, much later. I am beginning my writings with the child because I believe it would be almost impossible to understand this person if I didn't. So, let me begin..._

The walls had once been gold, back when there was time to paint. Now, there was little time to clean. The hardwood floor was exceptionally clean, given the circumstances. A maid must've been in and out earlier that day. A small boy, maybe six years old, sat at the front of an old mahogany desk. His hands lay perfectly in his lap, but his head rested against the leg of the desk. There was only the light of a single candle illuminating the space. It lit the dusty red curtains by the window ahead of him. A book lay open on the floor in front of the child wishing to be read, yet this child was much to tired to read anymore. All he could do was listen. Listen for any sound of his fathers arrival home.

A door across the room opened and she came in. The woman who was supposed to see this child to bed hours ago. She looked down, her workers dress creasing, into the childs bright blue eyes. His blonde hair was in a toppled mess, as if he had been lieing in bed and decided to take a midnight walk. The woman couldn't help but smile.

"Carlisle?" She said, placing her hand on her hip. The boy looked up, his eyes tired. "Up to bed you go." She walked forward, lifted him by the arms and nudged him out of the room. She closed the door behind her. She saw Carlise up the stairs and into his room. He stood there and waited while the woman went ahead of him and readied his sheets. " Shouldn't be walking the house at this time of night, I say." She shook her head. "What would your father say?" She tutted.

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" Carlisle asked, climbing up into his bed, his night shirt rising to his waist as he lay down.

"'Course not. What kind of person do you think I am?" She said, pulling down his shirt and pulling the blankets up to his chin. She patted his stomach and started to turn around.

"Linny?" A quiet voice said from behind her. She smiled and turned around, as she did every night.

"Are you forgetting something?" He smiled. Her answering smile was almost hidden in the darkness.

"Ah. I can't believe I forgot." She walked over to him, leaned down and kissed his cheek, then his forehead. He placed his hand on her cheek. "Good night, my Carlisle."

"'night." He yawned, turning over into his pillows. Linny smiled and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

Carlisle lay there for a very long time, and he did fall asleep at one point. Until he heard the sound of horses coming up the road. He shot up quickly and regretted it instantly, holding his head to stop the spinning. He got out of bed and pressed his face up against the window to see who had arrived. His fathers carriage had come home, and was untieing the horses from the carriage. After a few minutes passed and Carlisle knew that his father had entered the house, he slowly tiptoed across the cold wooden floor and pulled the door open. With his hand still on the door knob, he leaned out the door. The walls here were so thin that Carlisle could hear his father talking, but it was low. He dared to leave the safety of his bedroom, sneak down to the first landing and lean his head against the railing.

"Did you find anything tonight?" Linny's voice was light, Carlisle knew that she really didn't want to know the answer.

"None tonight, no. But God must be looking, because He did help me find the group of Roman Catholics a fortnight ago." Carlisle's father's voice was full of pride. Carlisle's breathing grew heavy. He curled his toes on the floor. "They'll be in Hell soon enough." There was a long period of silence and Carlisle almost turned around and went back up to bed. Until he heard the sound of his father's study opening, and he remembered the candle and book he left behind. He closed his eyes and waited. "Linny? Did you let Carlisle into my study?"

"No sir. He has been in bed all night."

"Well then he must have gotten up without you knowing, because this is not how I left it." Carlisle's father was no doubt blowing out the candle and picking up the book from the floor.

"I'll go and check on him, sir."

"No, let me."

Carlisle's breathing stopped all together. He could hear the sound of his father starting up the stairs. He turned around quickly and ran into his bedroom, not even bothering to close his door, and climbed into his bed. He only had enough time to pull the covers over him, before his father came in.

"Carlisle." His father's voice was angry. Carlisle tried to look asleep, but he couldn't stop breathing so hard. "Carlisle, what did I tell you about going into my study?" Carlisle didn't answer. " Talk to me. I know you are not asleep!" The blanket was thrown off of him and he looked up at his father, his breathing was hard and forced. Carlisle coudn't catch his breath. He tried to take in a breath but the look on his father's face made it worse. His father didn't seem to care, he grabbed Carlisle by the arm and pulled him out of the bed and out the door. "You will ask the Lord for forgiveness for breaking a commandment. You will ask the Lord to save you from Hell, and hopefully he will ablige."

Carlisle's father dragged him down the stairs, not even noticing that Carlisle's face was turning purple. Out the door they went and into the October cold. They went down the road, not even bothering to get a horse. Carlisle couldn't breathe and he tried his best to carry himself behind his father. They came before the church within minutes and his father opened the old wooden door with a bang. They went down the aisle and Carlise was thrown onto the altar.

"Now pray. I forgave you for killing your mother, now you will ask God for forgiveness for disobeying your father!"

_The boy in the story had a childhood that he would remember for he rest of his life and after. It was from that moment in the church when for some reason Carlisle could breath again, that he vowed to always obey his father, and he did become a very obedient son. It was when Carlisle took over his father's church that the real story begins..._

**REVIEW**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

_My entries in these memoirs are not needed for myself, for I can remember every slight detail of what happened. It's amazing really. Back when I was a child I believed I existed for no reason—only to take over my father's church. I always thought that I would grow to be exactly like him. I still see parts of him now, but at least now I, Carlisle Cullen, have a purpose._

Carlisle sat in the wooden chair next to his father's bed. He looked so weak and yet so demanding. His father was asleep, so Carlisle had the chance to truly look at someone he had been calling father for the last twenty years.

His hair was grey, but there were still the hints of brown in it. Linny had told Carlisle as a child that he had gotten his blonde hair from his mother.Carlisle had always loved it when Linny would talk about his mother. His father never brought her up, and when he did, it was to blame Carlisle. Now, Carlisle took in the wrinkles, crow's-feet, and slight eyebrows. If someone had never met this man before, they would find him gentle, almost loving. Carlisle knew better than that.

For the past few months, Carlisle had taken it upon himself to lead the services at the church. Carlisle knew that his father no longer had the health to run the church. He didn't even need to ask, he knew it would come, and he took it the day he saw his father fall that day.

Carlisle sat and waited for his father to wake. He looked around the almost empty room. His eyes rested on the portrait of his mother. When Carlisle was a small child, he would sneak in here and sit and watch his mother. At times he would pray that she were alive, but God never listened. Carlisle knew that He had better things to do than to listen to a small boy. Carlisle picked up his father's Bible off of the night stand and began to read. He got part way through the Gospel according to Luke, when his father woke up.

"Good morning, father." Carlisle said, smiling slightly. He closed the Bible and placed it back on the table. "Did you rest well?"

"I might have slept a little more than you, son." His father coughed into his hand. He wiped his mouth and then dragged his hand along his night sheet.

"I believe you did." Carlisle rolled up his sleeves.

"Did Linny tell you to watch over me?"

"Like a Hawk." Carlisle answered. He was pleased to see his father smile. His father coughed again.

"I suppose it's a good thing. I am not going to be around much longer…" He coughed again, and blood came into his hand. Carlisle stood up quickly and began walking to the door.

"I'll go get Libby…"

"No. Son... Come here." Carlisle turned around and returned to his seat. "I'm fine. I need to tell you something."

"Yes, father?" Carlisle was interested and leaned forward in his seat.

"The past years, you have proved exceptional in the church." Cough. "You show your obedience to Christ your father, as well as I." Cough. "I am proud to have you as a son and follower."

"Thank you, father."

"Although you have disobeyed me from time to time, I know that you will be a great leader of the church. I have something I need to tell you." Carlisle leaned his elbows on his father's bedside.

"The hunts that my people and I have gone on…"

"For the Catholics?"

"We were never truly looking for Catholics. It was creatures we searched."

"Like coyotes?" Carlisle asked.

"No. Blood suckers…. Vampires. Magic's – Witches..." Carlisle's father creased his forehead. Carlisle laughed.

"They don't exist, father."

"They do. I have hunted and killed hundreds in my life. Hundreds. And you will take over when I am gone." His father coughed again. Carlisle didn't answer him. He sat up straighter. "Promise me, Carlisle."

Carlisle took in a deep, long breath.

"I promise, father." Carlisle said, kissing his fathers hand.

_My father died less than a month later, but I had started to hunt with his men before his pass. He had said he had found so many vampires and other hell creatures, but it was harder for me to find them. I hunted for four years and found only a dozen or so creatures. I killed them all. It was on one autumn night that they killed me._


End file.
